Hello from the other side!
So yeah, that was fun. 

By getting this flu and in turn, giving it to my son, I was just being a good mother.  You see, Ben told me last week that he wanted a day alone with just me.  Well kid, how about THREE!?  Just you and me, Buddy.  Nope, no one else can even come into this apartment!

Oh and how about during those three days we lay comatose on the couch.  Even better let’s watch D3: The Mighty Ducks more times than Emilio Estevez.  Because really, nothing says “mother and son bonding” like both of us sleeping for 12 hours a night, going through three boxes of Kleenex, and nagging each other to “drink more water!”

I thought I was going to go stir crazy being cooped up inside for days on end but really, I was too sick to care.  My parents brought over supplies but because I didn’t want them to even THINK of getting this, when they came over I opened the door just a crack with a scarf over my face.  A dramatic Michael Jackson impression?  Perhaps but guess who ISN’T sick!

Yesterday when Ben and I were feeling good enough to come up with hair-brained ideas (and neither of us had fevers for 24 hours so we were officially non contagious) we decided to get out of the house and go to the mall.  Nothing perks those spirits like some retail therapy! 

However the minute that we got out of the car, I felt like I was part of “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids?”    This place was HUGE!  The most movement I had done for the past five days was from the couch, to the kitchen, break at the couch again, to the bathroom, back to bed.  Just getting through the first store was like walking to Chicago; uphill.  Don’t even get me started on going from Boston Store to JcPenney’s.  It was so bad we had to take a break and sit down on one of those benches.  I finally understand who those things are for.  Victims of The Swine.  After ‘Penney’s the boy and I both looked at each other and said, “Let’s go home.”  

Even though I’m still as strong as a wet noodle and can’t laugh without hacking up a lung, the worst is over.  I even made it into work.  For a day.  Because tomorrow we head out to DC to celebrate Halloween with the First Family. This whole time we were so worried Ben and I wouldn’t make the trip but HA!  Take that H1N1!  Punk! 

However I did tell my parents we should add in some time because if Ben and I thought the mall was big, the airport is going to seem like walking across Africa.

It all started on Thursday night.  It had been a very stressful week so when I was feeling run down and semi sick, I just thought it was the weight of a bad week on me. 

Until I woke up in the early hours of Friday with a cough deep in my lungs that burned like lava.  “Shit,” I muttered to myself.  I knew immediately this wasn’t just a normal chest cold.

Regardless Friday morning I dragged myself into work since I had already called in sick once that week and thought maybe I would feel better as the day went on.  Ironically Josh (my coworker) was out sick, so I stayed but as every hour went by I knew that Matt and I were going to miss The Boys birthday party.  Yes, they are such a cute couple they even have birthday’s just days apart.  ALthough I was super bummed to miss it,I figured nothing says, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” like hacking up a lung all over the artichoke dip.

Saturday I woke up feeling OK.  Little did I know that was the best I would feel all day and it would be downhill from there. 

We had plans Saturday night to go to my friend Darcy’s house for dinner.  So around 4:00 pm I made the accent up Mount St Helen’s, or my stairs…it was hard to tell.  I took a long hot shower that was an almost an orgasmic experience, until I finally decided I should leave some water for the fish and got out.  Once out of the heaven I called a shower, it took everything I had to just put a towel around my hair and get on my robe.  As I collapsed into bed I knew there was no way we were going anywhere that night. 

Instead of spending the night with friends, food and wine, it was a night in with my boys, dressed like a homeless person clutching my tea.  By Saturday night the body aches were so bad and my fever so high I was delirious.  At one point I asked Matt for more ibuprofen.  Five minutes after I took it, I looked at him and asked for ibuprofen.  “Honey, I just gave it to you,”  Matt said.  That’s when I declared that I was Done With The Day and took myself to bed.  Where I proceeded to sleep for 12 hours.

Today I woke up feeling much better.  Now I just feel like I have a bad cold which I would take any day over the previous feeling of my lungs being filled with cement on fire. 

However, as each minute I feel better, there is a little boy on the couch next to me who’s sinking deeper and deeper.  And I need to figure out how to not go insane by the fact that I haven’t left the house for more than 48 hours with many more ahead of me.

Even though I never made it to Urgent Care, I did talk to a friend of mine who is a doctor and pronounced me a H1N1 victim.  Serves me right that I would get this weeks before work vaccinated me.  Remember I was the one who cried pig!  I was the one who called this just a big media hype. 

So let my lessons learned be your knowledge.  1) you don’t have to guess if you have the Swine Flu.  You will know.  Just like you don’t have to guess if you are in labor… you know!  And 2) it’s not just a media hype.  If you have a chance to get vaccinated, DO!  Trust me, this is a nasty virus which I would have been so happy to avoid. 

Now everyone cross your fingers that this passes through my family in time for us to catch our flight to D.C. on Thursday.  The Obama’s are counting on us.

Tuesday evening I picked up my child from a TWELVE HOUR field trip! Yes, you read that correctly. They left school at 8:00 am and returned at 7:30 PM!  I think his teacher’s head needs to be examined.  In my day, our big field trip was a ten block gaunt to the downtown library. For Ben’s class, it’s a trip to IOWA! On a TUESDAY!

So after I scooped up my puddle of a child, I brought him home and told him to immediately do his homework since it was already almost 8 pm. No, I didn’t. Even I’m not THAT mean. Instead I set him up on the couch for a good hour of bad TV. When what to my wondering eyes should appear but his very flushed little face, red eyes and a cough with a runny nose that would not stop.

“I’m sure it’s just a cold.” I told myself. Except when I put him in bed for the night and gave him a goodnight kiss, I knew he had a fever. My Mom Lips on that boy’s forehead are a way better indicator than some stupid thermometer. That and I couldn’t find the darn thing.

Once I left his room I went into a full scale panic. Since I work for a health care provider we have been inundated with precautions for H1N1. The symptoms have been shoved down our throats almost on a daily basis. Therefore I knew for certain that cough + headache + runny nose + fever = 100% Swine Flu!

After I stopped running around in small circles I did the next most mature thing a 37 year old mother does. I called my mommy. “MOM! Ben has a fever! And a cough! AND A RUNNY NOSE! Do you know what this means!? SWINE FLU MOTHER! The boy has the SWINE FLU!”

Even though I was in such a thither, I did hear my mother say, “Rebecca, calm down and find the thermometer and take his temp. Without your ‘Mom Lips’”.

I followed her advice, found the REAL thermometer and proceeded to wake up my child to take his temp. OK so it was only 99 but I was certain at any moment the fever would spike and he would start oinking.

Of course I deserved all this. I was the one who months ago was all, “This Swine Flu is such a media hype. Come on!” Hell in May, I even posted THIS cartoon. Serves this Jew, who failed to atone for her sins on Yom Kippur, right that my child would get the very un-Kosher SWINE flu.

The truth is, I wasn’t as worried at how sick he would be as how we would be quarantined for days on end. Ben and I alone, in our apartment, ALONE for DAYS ON END, would not be good. Even Facebook couldn’t keep us occupied for that long.

But Swine Flu it was and somehow we would deal.

I accepted my fate as I called into work for the next day, called Ben in “sick with the Swine Flu” to school, changed my Facebook status to “Ben has H1N1″ and went to bed with visions of piglets swimming through my head.

The next morning I was awoken by a very cute, VERY COOL, very clear eyed boy saying, “Mom! Shouldn’t you be up? Don’t we have to get going?”
“But… but you were dying. You had The Swine. Just last night. I called you in sick to school… how are you feeling!?”

His mother might be not that smart but this kid certainly is as he said, “Oh um, yeah, I’m feeling a little bit better. <cough cough> Can I play PS2 now?”

The moral of this story is that sometimes, a cold is just a cold even with a low grade fever. Sometimes the media hype can really get the best of us. And sometimes, just sometimes, this Princess tends to overreact.

To tweet or not to tweet, that is my question.

I have a confession to make. My name is Becky and I don’t Tweet! I know I know, it’s shocking. I should have asked you all to sit down before just throwing that out there sans warning.

I blog (duh), I Facebook like a champ, and I text like a 13 year old on a sugar high but I don’t Twitter.

It seems that many moons ago I did in fact sign up for Twitter. Why? Great question. I have no idea. I guess I wanted to see what all the fuss was about but once I got on there it made no sense, I got all confused, started biting my nails and therefore never did anything with it.

However, every now and then I get a notification that someone is “following” me on Twitter. My first reaction is, “Good lord, why? How did they find me?” and my next thought is, “Oh how sad. This poor person, who I have never heard of, is going to be bored out of their minds. I hope there is a “un-follow” button.”

One of the reasons I don’t Twitter is I because I have to believe that everyone is already sick of me. Between this here blog and Facebook (What are you doing now? What about NOW? And NOW?!) who really wants to know how much coffee I drank, what I just ate for lunch and when my library book is due?

And really how does Twitter even work? If you follow someone do you get notifications on everything they Tweet about? So are you constantly being Tweeted and Twitted? Is it just another thing for me to check and get stressed out about? People, I have my farm on Farmville, I NEED NO MORE STRESS!

I guess I just don’t get it at all.

Therefore I leave it to you dear readers. Someone please enlighten this clearly Social Network novice. Do you Tweet? Should I become Twittapated? And if so…WHY?

Last night I was awoken by the deafening sound of silence. It took me a moment to figure out what was going on. Was I dead? Was I in some super calm sleep and still needed to wake up? Or did I mysteriously go deaf in the middle of the night? When I was coherent enough to be sane, I realized that the power went out. We were having a normal albeit crazy Midwestern thunderstorm with so much lightening it could put a dance club to shame. 

Therefore, I wasn’t too shocked.  But because last night was the first time I turned the air on in my new place, I worried that I blew a fuse. I do love my apartment something fierce, but the old girl, well she isn’t the newest building on the block. When I moved the little switch to “cool on” it made a noise similar to that of a propeller airplane. The noise didn’t bother me because at the time I was so hot and sticky, I could listen to nails on a chalkboard just as long as I was cool.

But there in the dark and the silence, my addled-middle-of-the-night-mind went on overdrive. Did I really blow a fuse? If so, how was I going to fix that? Or perhaps this was some bad guy who knocked my breaker and was about to attack?  Did the power company choose ME to shut the power off as a psychological experiment?

Realizing it could be any and ALL of the above, I somehow summoned the courage to go downstairs and find my cell. All the way down the dark steps I muttering to myself “thisissoscarythisissoscarythisissoscary…”

You really don’t realize how much you rely on power until you have none. Profound huh?  But really, with no nightlights, no light on the microwave clock or DVD player. Just dark.  And then there’s the silence.  That’s the worst part of a black out for me. No nice hum of the fridge, the computer or a fans. If I ever get caught by the enemy in the middle of war (which could TOTALLY HAPPEN) in order to torture me, just give me a room with NO SOUND AT ALL.

Anyway, since I was Super Woman and wouldn’t let my boy upstairs die in a blackout (again, could TOTALLY happen) I found my cell and called the electric company. No, not the one that used to be after Sesame Street, but wouldn’t THAT be cool?

After telling them I had no power and giving this lady who was very pleasant for 2:30am, my address I immediately asked, “Am I the ONLY one in this area to lose power!?” She literally laughed at me and said “No. There are many calls coming in…”

As much as I wanted to wake up Ben and have his company during this momentous occasion, I reminded myself that I am in fact his mother, and not his roommate or big sister and therefore I could check on the boy (with my make shift cell phone flashlight) but then I had to take myself, and the now total lack of drama, back to bed.

When the power came back on an hour later, I truly have never been so happy to hear the roar of Bessie (that’s the name I have given my central air) and the breeze from the fan in my face.

I have also made a solemn vow to never be late on my utility bill!

Little did I know that in a deep dark corner of my brain was a ticking time bomb.  Like a Peep in the microwave, when the clock struck 37 years, it exploded up with the mess that only a melted marshmallow can produce.

Apparently for me, turning 37 really translated to rolling Father Time back and recreating 21.  Although sadly, the sorority, the part-time job at Abercrombie and Fitch in the Mall of America and the college classes which were only Tuesday – Thursday didn’t come along for the ride.

But those last two weeks in March, I made that old college sorority girl (who once literally had a lampshade on her head at a party) proud.  I had friends come into town two weekends in a row, and had late nights in the middle of the week which continued into the weekends.  In the end I had the expanded waistline, empty wallet and headache to prove it.

Luckily, just like Cinderella’s stroke of midnight, April 1st came and the spell was broken.  

Those two wild weeks in March proved to be a valuable lesson.  First, I still got it.  This old girl can still get her groove on.  But second and more importantly, I don’t want it.  Making it to the ripe old age of 37 is an honor.  I wouldn’t change my life one bit.   Going to bed at 10:00 pm (OK who am I kidding, 9:30 tops) and getting my kiddo and I to school and work on time with a head clear of cobwebs is my idea of a great time.  Not to mention how much one can get done on a Sunday when they wake up at 8:00 fully rested and ready to take on the laundry.

So call me old and boring, but I’ll call it happy and content.

My computer recently decided that I have loaded too many pictures and therefore I am no longer worthy of uploading nary a photo.  Just like a good Jewish grandmother it seemed to say to me, “Beckala!  Enough with the pit-chas already!  Just write to the nice people!  OY!” 

Since posting pictures of the family birthday soiree was out of the picture, I quickly developed a severe case of writers block.

Until I came home this afternoon to find the Holy Grail of Blogging material in my mailbox.  Yes readers, today the Writing Gods shined down upon me.   I received the elusive, the heard of on “20/20″ but rarely seen, Prison Love Letter.

At first I was freaked out and beyond puzzled when I saw the envelope with my name, my new address and in the corner, His name and the address of the Columbia County Jail.

My poor little brain worked overtime.  Who do I know in the clink?  Did I meet someone this weekend that had a brother in jail?  Did Ben’s Sperm Donor move to Wisconsin and change his name to Anthony?  Before I could even get my coat off, I tore open the envelope to find not only a page and a half hand-written letter but also a picture of my new love.

I can laugh now and write about this with ease but at the time I was FREAKED OUT!   Therefore I called My Person as fast as my fingers could find her on my speed-dial.  In our bi-laws it clearly states that letters from prison are worthy of the immediate and frantic phone call.  Since she didn’t pick up right away I had to call my parents, my friend Janine and half the state of Wisconsin.  My parents were concerned but Janine, who used to be a parole officer laughed and said “File this under ‘Great Stories To Tell’ and don’t worry..”  So I knew this couldn’t be that big of a deal.

While I waited for Shelly to call me back, I decided to carefully read the prose of my new love.   It seems he “received [my] name and information from a close friend” of his.   He continued to say, “Please don’t be alarmed because no harm is intended.”  Well, whew!  In that case, sign me up, Hot Stuff! 

My new friend of course didn’t commit any violent act to land him in a state penitentiary.  No, he “decided to try and get rich the fast way!  As you see, it was a foolish and poor decision!  A lesson learned.”  He also would be much obliged if I not only wrote him back but sent a picture. 

Finally Shelly called me back and informed me this stuff has happened to her many times in the past and not to worry.  She even had phone calls from prisoners.  Lucky girl.  She also informed me that I shouldn’t write him back.  Well phooey!  Since Yahoo clearly isn’t working out I thought perhaps this was my answer.

But sadly #264004 I’m not the girl for you.  So good luck to you on your speedy release from the Slammer.

Since today is Valentine’s Day Eve (gag!) this morning on my favorite Madison radio station, 105.5 was talking about this book.

And then they asked their listeners to call in with what six words they would use to describe either their current relationship or a past relationship.

Because I am what you might call “outgoing”, and so not a fan of this stupid Hallmark Shove It In Your Face That You Don’t Have A Date On Yet Another F-ing Valentine’s Day holiday, I called in.  And they put me on the air.  Why?  Because mine rocked.

It was:

He Picked The Bottle Over Me.

Ah yes.  Nothing says “Good morning and Happy Valentine’s Eve” like that little nugget eh?    Hello Princess.  Bad coffee called and wants it’s “bitter” back.

Once I was able to get over how weird my voice sounded on the radio, there were some other very interesting and actually sweet ones.  

So that leads me to ask you, Internet?  What would be yours?  And remember you can only use 6 Words.  Nothing more, nothing less.

Last night, after eating some heavenly Chinese food, I was eager to break into my fortune cookie. 

Not only because I love me some fortune cookies, but because these past couple weeks have been so stressful, I needed some guidance.  And if that guidance has to come from flour and sugar folded up like a napkin, so be it.

To my wonder and surprise, I opened my cookie to find not one, not even two, but FOUR fortunes crammed into this sweet treat.

What sort of omen was this?  What was the world and more importantly this cookie trying to tell me?

I fumbled with all the little slips of paper with fervor to see what wisdom they had to bestow on me!

All four fortunes, were the same:

You are the master of your situation.

Whoa.   That’s deep.

I get it, Cookie.  I get it. 

Well not really but since it was important enough to tell me four times, I’ll work on it.

Did you know I’m moving? 

I know I barely talk about it.  It’s not like every single Facebook status for the past week has been me bitching about packing and moving.  I’m so subtle.  I hate to complain.  So it’s easy to forget that I’m moving. 

But I am!

For some reason, when I moved into my current place I decided to not throw away anything.  I think I even have used Kleenex from 2001.

This time, even though I only had days to get my whole place packed up, I went through EVERYTHING and if it hasn’t been touched in a year, see ya!

Poor Ben.  I’m constantly asking him, “Do you need this?  You haven’t used this in months!”

“Mom!  It’s a beach towel and my swimsuit.  Are you crazy?  Pack it!  Don’t throw it away!”

“And this?  What is this!?  We don’t need THIS!”

“Ah Mom, isn’t that my baby book?”

Don’t worry, baby books haven’t been thrown but pretty much everything else has. 

I gave six (yes SIX!) of those huge lawn trash bags full of clothes to the Salvation Army. 

I went through every basket, every drawer, every Tupperware bin. 

One basket of crap that had letters from 2004 addressed to Ben from my uncle that weren’t even opened.  Oops.  
And then there were birthday cards from my ex-boyfriend’s parents to Ben and I.  Ouch.  No need for those anymore.

I think my favorite find was emails between a boyfriend and I from ten years ago.  I not only printed them out, but have kept moving them for the past decade.  Hold on to much Beck?   Yep, even those have now been torn up (into micro-nano pieces) and thrown away.

It feels so great to purge all this stuff.   So freeing.  So light.

I just hope I’m able to find Ben’s sandals and goggles come June.

And now my last hurdle is to channel my inner Eskimo and get through this move in these Arctic temperatures. 

Seriously the forecast for this weekend is:
FRIDAY:
***WIND CHILL WARNING UNTIL NOON***
Partly sunny, becoming breezy, and bitterly cold (becoming mostly cloudy with light snow developing late at night).
High: 4
Wind: SW increasing to 10-20 MPH; Wind Chills: -20 to -40 in the morning.

SATURDAY:
Mostly cloudy and not as cold with light snow tapering to flurries; minor snow accumulation of 1-3″ is possible.
Low: 2; temperatures steady/slowly rising into the teens by morning
High: 23; Wind Chills: -5 to -15 in the morning

These temps aren’t just “Baby it’s cold outside.” 
These are “You are on the surface of Pluto so don’t stand outside with skin exposed for more than 2 minutes, or it will turn black and fall off.”

Ah yes.  Good times.   There is the biggest cup of spiked hot chocolate in my near future…

Wish me luck people.  See you on the other side.